Creative Spark
by crematosis
Summary: "Why didn't you write it down?" Steve asked. "Because it was 3 a.m. Any storyline that starts at 3 a.m. is bad."


A/N: It all started when I had that terrible zombie story idea and refused to write it down, so I gave it to Tony instead. Problem solved.

Disclaimer: We all know I own nothing Marvel-y except a few keychains. Because I'm that poor.

Steve knew it was a bad sign when Tony wandered into the kitchen a little after six wearing his "Death Before Decaf" shirt.

"Pulled another all-nighter?" he asked, mouth twisted with sympathy.

Tony was always so busy. He wrote everything from really bloody horror for the magazines to sprawling sci-fi novels detailing ancient alien races in their glittering cities. And when he was especially depressed, he wrote raw, emotional poetry that was quietly published under a pseudonym.

Even after Tony had successfully finished a draft, he spent days editing and rewriting to make it perfect before he sent it out. And then when it came back filled with notes and suggestions for changes, Tony ranted and raved about how stupid the editors all were before he shut himself back into his room for another late-night session of editing.

Steve was sure he had it a lot easier. There was always just a simple note thanking him for his submission and letting him know whether it was accepted or rejection. No explanations and no demands to redo his drawings and resubmit.

"I didn't intend to," Tony muttered. He downed a cup of coffee in one gulp and started pouring a second cup. "I was lying in bed and this stupid storyline just wouldn't leave me alone. So, after a couple hours I decided sleep was a lost cause."

"Why didn't you get up and write it down?"

"Because it was three a.m., Steve. And all my worst ideas come to me at three a.m." Tony shook his head and drained the second cup.

Steve leaned against the counter and took a sip of his own coffee. "Maybe it's not so bad."

Tony gave him a baleful look. "Oh, it is. Starts out with these two teenagers having sex in the middle of the woods."

"As teenagers are known to do," Steve said with a sage nod.

Tony glared. "And then the guys gets shot in the head while he's still balls-deep inside the girl and half his face is blown off."

Steve wrinkled his nose.

"And the girl's screaming and trying to push him off and these gangsters are just standing around laughing. And then, get this, the dude starts breathing again and he looks at her with the one eye that didn't get shot off. And she starts screaming louder and begging for someone to get him off her, but everyone ignores her because they think she's just hysterical. But then he gets up and starts mauling the gangsters. They spray him with bullets, but he just keeps going and rips them all to shreds. And then he comes back to the girl, bites her, and she becomes a zombie too. And they live happily ever after. Or, well, not live, because they're zombies and they're undead."

"Wow," Steve said. It was a lot to process.

"You can't tell me it's not terrible," Tony said.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, it's terrible. But it'll probably be a hit. I've seen the magazines you write for."

Tony made a face as if he was trying to figure out whether or not he should be offended. But then he broke into a wide grin. "Thanks, Steve."

"Any time. That's what I'm here for."

"That and the really great sex," Tony said with a sly smile.

Steve snorted. Only Tony considered sex part of his creative process.

When Steve started a new project, he woke up early and went for a run to clear his head. Tony took someone to bed. And now that the two of them were sharing a nice little apartment together, Tony usually came to him when he wanted to gear up for a new story.

Not that Steve minded sleeping with him. Tony was always so lively in bed that afterward, Steve couldn't help but feel energized and ready to take on the world.

It was probably why sometimes, when he got feeling particularly uninspired and had tossed several sketches in the trash, or worse, had spent several hours staring at a blank sheet of paper, he went to Tony to jumpstart his creative juices.

"I'll be here whenever you want to start working on it," Steve said. "Just not at 3 a.m."

Tony smiled. "I'll let you know."


End file.
